Question: I would like to invite my sonís girlfriend to accompany us on a vacation. They are twenty-year-old college students. There will be three adult mothers and their young adult children all-staying in the same five-bed room rented house. My sonís girl friend is the only person who will not have a parent along for the trip (the girlfriend's parents are not part of the trip).
Is it appropriate for a young Jewish woman to be invited in this circumstance, or is asking her placing her in an improper situation? I must add that both of these young adults are smart, mature people and wise well beyond their years. What does Judaism say about this?
Thank you for your insight.

The wording of your question is interesting. You say “I would like to invite…,” and you raise the possibility that asking this young woman may place “her in an improper situation.”

From your question, it most certainly does not seem that the impetus for the proposed invitation is coming from your son or his girl friend. Rather, it is coming from you. You do not tell us why you see it as important to invite this young lady. I assume that it is because you want to be nice and hospitable, or because you think that your son would appreciate it. The problem with this line of thinking is that, in all likelihood, you are not privy to the internal status of their relationship. While it is possible that such an invitation might be welcome, it is equally possible that such an invitation would be uncomfortable for the parties concerned, would put unwanted pressure on them, or would “rush” them in an undesirable way. Hence, unless and until the impetus for the invitation comes from your son himself, I would not even consider it.

If your son were to make such a request, I would remind him that Jewish attitudes (across the spectrum) would certainly not regard it as appropriate for him and his girl friend to be together in an intimate fashion at a time when they have made no serious commitment to each other. I would also point out to him that the goal of a vacation in which seven people share a five-bedroom house is to spend convivial time together as a group. In this context, the behavior of a romantically involved couple within the group should not in any way upset or alienate others.

Jewish sources are absolutely clear on the goal of deferring sexual functioning to those forms of relationship that bespeak holiness. Vacations of the type that you are taking frequently place uncommitted couples in circumstances of tension vis-à-vis this ideal. Hence, the arrangement that you are proposing should only be entered into at the instigation of the young couple, and with the proviso that they will accommodate the needs of others in the group, and will abide by the ideals contemplated by the tradition.

If your son and his girl friend were to request to accompany you on this type of vacation, and are willing to adhere to the above ground-rules, I foresee no problem. This does not, however, strike me as a likely scenario.

Question: Can a non-Jew (or a person studying for conversion, but not yet converted) lead prayers? Is there a difference for different parts or prayers (e.g. Kabbalat Shabbat vs Amidah)? Is there a difference if there is a minyan or not?

Prayer within Judaism is not simply a voluntary, spiritual opportunity. Rather, it is an obligation enshrined within Jewish law. As a consequence, the prayer leader actually functions in such a way as to afford others the opportunity to fulfill their prayer obligation. Many centuries ago, Jewish law ruled that only a person who is obligated to fulfill the commandment of prayer could provide others with the opportunity to fulfill their obligation:

“This is the general principle: One who is not obligated in a matter [of ritual observance] cannot enable others to fulfill their obligation [in that matter]." (Mishna Rosh HaShana 3:8)

Hence, since non-Jews (and prospective converts remain non-Jews until their conversion is complete) are not obligated in the ritual of prayer, they are not eligible to lead prayer.

Even beyond the legal issue, this makes sense. After all, Jewish prayer involves particular Jewish affirmations, and Jewish approaches. These affirmations, would – at a minimum – seem inconsistent coming from a non-Jew. Consequently, there is broad agreement across the Jewish spectrum that prayer leadership in the Jewish context should be the domain of a qualified Jewish individual.

Question: I am a Jewish woman, as my mother is Jewish. My father is not Jewish. I was raised as a Conservative Jew. I am in a relationship with a modern orthodox man who is a Cohen (a descendant of Aaron, one of the High Priests). We want to marry, but we have been told there are restrictions on him marrying me, because in addition to other restrictions on Cohanim (High Priests), one of the restricted classes of women for Cohanim are those whose fathers are not Jewish. Can you please clarify this for me? Is this true? I have done a lot of reading and I keep seeing the restrictions for widow, divorcee, convert, but not for a Jewish woman whose father was not Jewish. Since my mother is Jewish and Judaism is a matrilineal religion - and I have read in some places Judaism doesn't even recognize the religion of the father - I am Jewish. If it is true that one of the marriage restrictions of the Cohanim is to a woman whose father is not Jewish, can you please advise on what we can do in our situation to marry?

There is, to my knowledge, no restriction like the one you describe. As you point out, Cohanim are enjoined from marrying widows, divorcees, and converts. You do not fall into any of these categories. You are 100% Jewish, and, so far as I can tell, eligible to marry a Cohen.

Of course, this question is not one upon which I can offer a definitive ruling – that can only be achieved by meeting with the rabbi who is to officiate at your wedding. But, if the facts are as you describe, I can see no impediment to your marriage. Mazal Tov! May your future be bright!

Question: There is a big debate in Israel over army service, and whether Haredim ("ultra" Orthodox) should have to enlist. The Haredim claim that they *are* defending the country, by learning Torah. Is it valid to say that defending the country by studying Torah and defending the country by putting your life on the line are truly equal?

In the halakha, as in life itself, it is very difficult to say what tasks are truly “equal” to each other. The tradition, after all, teaches that “Talmud Torah k’neged kulam,” “The study of Torah is equivalent in value to all the other mitzvot (combined).” On the other hand, the tradition also instructs that every single mitzvah of the Torah (excepting those concerning murder, idolatry, and sexual transgression) can be set aside for the sake of pikuach nefesh (saving life). Does this mean that Talmud Torah and pikuach nefesh are “equal?” It certainly conveys that both are of the utmost importance, but it really does not instruct us as to whether they are equal.

Perhaps, though, it is not particularly helpful to frame the question around the issue of equality. After all, even if it is true that “Talmud Torah” is superior to all other activities, it would not imply that one should necessarily study at every moment, to the exclusion of all else. Examples of this can be seen on the domestic level: Suppose that a man is studying Torah, but he is simultaneously the only adult in the house, and a child is in physical danger. Should he continue studying Torah even if the child is, God-forbid, injured or killed? Of course not. He must interrupt his Torah study for however long it takes to avert the physical danger. This is true even in less extreme circumstances. Should a man interrupt his studies to make a trip to visit his mother who is suffering from a non life-threatening illness across town? Of course he should – and he should do so frequently. Should he interrupt Torah studies to assist his wife? Or to listen to his child? Of course. None of this suggests that Torah study is anything less than the most supreme activity. But it does concede the obvious: even the most supreme activity must, of necessity, be interrupted and set aside for other activities from time to time.

Therefore, even if the Haredim are 100% right that they are defending the country by studying Torah, and that Torah is the most supreme activity, this still does not tell us how much Torah study needs to be done, or by whom, or when interrupting Torah study might be appropriate. Hence the real question in the current debate in Israel is: are 2-3 years of national service sufficiently important a cause to interrupt the study of Torah?

In a sense, the Haredim have already answered this question. After all, it is important to recall that, at Sinai, precisely the same mitzvot were assigned to all Jews – Haredim and non-Haredim. The mitzvot – including the mitzva of Talmud Torah – were equally given to the whole Jewish people. Hence, if the Haredim truly believe that Talmud Torah is the preeminent tool for the defense of Israel, they ought to hold that the absolute minimum number necessary should serve in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) so that most people could go and study full time. At the very least, logic dictates that they should be arguing that all Jews who would agree to study Torah full-time for three years, rather than to serve in the IDF, (and there are probably thousands who would take the offer) should be able to do so, in the name of bolstering “Torah defense.” But the Haredim make no such argument. Their argument for full-time Torah study is only on behalf of the Haredi community.

Implicitly, therefore, the Haredim have already conceded that not all Jews (even those who are Torah-learned and willing) should be released from national service in order to study. As a result, they seem to concur that there needs to be an IDF to defend Israel, and that some number of Jews who are eligible for Torah-study can be “sacrificed” to the IDF for purposes of the physical defense of the state. If, then, they have implicitly agreed to this by not demanding the release of all Torah-study eligible (and willing) Jews, then the question becomes: how many Jews are actually required to study Torah and which sections of the nation should they come from?

To answer this question by positing that the number is precisely the number who are in Haredi yeshivot at any given time – and includes no other section of society – cannot be defended Jewishly. After all, as Moses informed the tribes of Gad and Reuben, if there is a need for physical defense of the Jewish people, then all the tribes – all sectors of society – must participate in the physical defense of the people. It seems reasonable to infer from this that, if there is to be an exemption from military service for the purpose of Torah study, this exemption should be spread equally over all the tribes (sectors) of society as well.

The Haredim suggest that since a large percentage of Israelis are secular, the Haredim, of necessity, bear an unfair share of the burden of “Torah defense.” They may or may not be correct in this claim (after all, countless hours of Torah study occur in Israel beyond Haredi yeshivot). But, if they are correct, then the Jewish way to ease their burden would be to insist that – evenly, from across the society – Israel should draft those who are needed for physical defense, while simultaneously “drafting” – evenly, from across the society – a suitable cadre for “Torah defense.” According to this perspective, Israel should decide how many soldiers it needs, and there should be a similar national consensus on how many are needed for “Torah defense” (in addition to those beyond the age of conscription who can voluntarily spend as much time as they wish in “Torah defense”).

Just as in the physical army, some will come to this “Torah corps” with extensive background, others with little. But who knows? … Perhaps sharing the "Torah defense" in this way may well have the positive result of spreading Torah learning far more widely than was ever previously imagined.

Contemporary Israel needs both Torah scholars and soldiers to protect the state. From a Jewish viewpoint, both scholars and soldiers should come from all sectors of society, as a collective national endeavor.

For most people, sibling relationships are – for at least some period in our lives – among the most problematic and fraught relationships we experience. If this does not apply to you, then you are unusually fortunate. I suspect, however, that the question before us of how to treat siblings arises from some sibling difficulty – difficulty that is, in fact, the norm and not the exception.

Psychologically, it is easy to understand why relationships with siblings start out being so charged. From a very early age, most small children perceive – wrongly – that there is only a finite amount of parental love, attention, and other gifts to go around. Hence, we sense ourselves to be in a competition, with our siblings as our adversaries, in getting sufficient quantities of all that we need the most. This pattern, laid down early in life, is often hard to break. All it takes is for one sibling to feel that he/she has not received his/her due in the area of parental time, affection, or presents for sibling relationships to become uncomfortable.

It is interesting to note that the halacha (Jewish law) in this area is remarkably thin. There are a few legal statements about respect for siblings in the sources, but they tend to be so general that it would be difficult to determine if somebody were actually in breach of the law. Perhaps herein lies the genius of Judaism. Jewish tradition does not legislate that which would be intolerable for large numbers of people. What would have happened if Jewish law had mandated that we must love our siblings, or provide resources to our siblings, or put our siblings interests ahead of our own? Frankly, it would have made many devoted Jews into law-breakers. The paucity of law in this area is itself a profound statement of Judaism’s deep understanding of the human condition.

The fact, however, that there is little Jewish law on siblings should not be taken to imply that Judaism has little to say on the subject. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sometimes, the most profound teachings of our tradition are not enshrined in law. There are few areas in which this is clearer than that of sibling relationships.

After all, what is the entire first book of the Torah, Bereishit (Genesis), about if not the pain of sibling relationships? Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, Rachel and Leah, Joseph and his brothers – all experience deep turbulence in their relationships. If there were only one instance of sibling strife, one might tend to overlook it, but the repeating pattern makes sibling relationships one of the obvious central motifs of Bereishit.

And there are profound lessons that Judaism would have us learn from these troubled relationships, even if they are never enshrined in law. In fact the tradition seems to be affirming what we all know: much of how we conduct ourselves in the most important relationships in our lives is not governed by law, but there is a great deal that we can learn from the repeated successes and failures of those who went before us.

What pivotal lessons do we learn from Bereishit about sibling relationships? There are many insights, but let me offer a few points they seem to be key:

The first death in human history occurs when one brother (Cain) murders the other brother (Abel), due, in no small part, to a competition for Divine favor. We discover as Bereishit proceeds that – far from loving one’s sibling – having murderous intent towards one sibling is not anomalous as far as the Torah is concerned.

Critically though, after murdering Abel, Cain asks God the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper / protector / defender (shomer)?” The question is never answered, but the implicit response is plain: yes – yes, you are. Consequently, at the very least, our duty to our siblings is to protect or defend them from harm (and certainly not to be the cause of that harm). The minimum expectation of sibling relationships is that one would – insofar as it is possible – take steps to protect or defend one’s siblings from the harm that might otherwise befall them.

But there is more: Joseph has dreams of grandeur that imply that his brothers will bow down to him. He decides to share these dreams with his siblings. Naturally, these dreams are highly irritating to his brothers, and, when combined with their father’s favoritism of Joseph, lead again to fratricidal impulses. The implication seems clear: one should try to avoid acts that will be loathsome or irksome to one’s sibling. This is also the reason behind the law in Vayikra (Leviticus) that prevents a man from divorcing his wife and marrying her sister while the first wife is still alive. The Torah itself states that the effect would be “litsror aleiah,” to make life narrow and mean for the first wife (Lev. 18:18). Thus, the goal of the law is to circumvent sibling discord by foreclosing acts that are preventable and will clearly irk one’s siblings. The Torah’s message is direct: don’t be gratuitously irksome.

One last critical insight: When Joseph and his brothers become mature men, they end up reconciling in one of the most touching fraternal scenes imaginable. Prior to the reconciliation, Joseph checks carefully to see whether his brothers have really changed from when they were young men and proposed to kill him. He satisfies himself that they have truly gone through a process of transformation. Here too, there is a critical Torah teaching: if your relationship with your sibling is strained or estranged, be open to the possibility for transformation and reconciliation. You are not required to reconcile with somebody who is hostile or aggressive towards you. But there is, the Torah conveys, always the possibility for transformation, so one should never close the door entirely.

Protect your sibling from harm, do not be gratuitously irksome, stand open to reconciliation … these are just some of the valuable Torah teachings on sibling relationships. For more wisdom in this area, delve further into Bereishit…

Question: Is it okay for a Jewish woman to wear short shorts, spaghetti straps, or bikinis? What concerns might there be as far as Jewish values? Is the answer different in the various denominations or movements of Judaism?

Yes, it is perfectly OK for a Jewish woman to wear these items … so long as she is alone in a room with the door closed! In all other contexts, the tradition teaches that she ought to consider what she chooses to wear, what it says about her, and the impact that her dress might have upon others.

It is important to stress that the Jewish rules in this area are not sexist. They apply to both women and men. It is true that the traditional sources, like contemporary conversations, revolve more around women’s dress than men’s, but this is likely because women’s dress more readily evokes a sexual response in men, than the converse.

Nevertheless, the laws of tzniyut (modesty) in dress are important for both genders, since these practices elevate us by separating us from the animal world. Plainly, they also lead to the covering up of that which is sexually suggestive. The Talmud (Berakhot 24a) makes this point explicitly:

The same Talmudic page also states that “one who looks at the little finger of a woman, it is as if he looked at her private parts.” There can be no doubt that this is an exacting statement. However, since Jewish women are not required to wear gloves, pinpointing precisely what this standard implies in terms of actual items of clothing, plainly involves cultural and sociological judgments that go beyond legal statements.

For those who might conclude from these texts that Judaism is “prudish” or “repressive,” it is perfectly plausible that the exact opposite is true. It is a paradoxical feature of human sexuality that that which is hidden is often more exciting than that which is exposed. It may well be that the aim of covering the body is precisely to make its uncovering all the more stimulating within an appropriate, licit context.

From the perspective of Jewish values, therefore, the pursuit of modest dress has two clear goals:

1) To distinguish us from the animals, as beings that are not simply “physical bodies.” By covering up our physicality we convey the critical message that we – uniquely among created beings – aspire to a world of the soul. We cover our physical nature in order to highlight something that is far more elevated.

2) To the extent that it is possible, to remove sexual considerations from the public domain, and to enhance them within the private (marital) context where they most appropriately belong.

It is clear that different groups within Judaism respond to the value of tzniyut in varying ways. Even within the Orthodox world, some who call themselves “modern Orthodox” have dress standards that are not significantly different from others in society, while others in the Orthodox world can be readily differentiated by their dress.

There is, it must be said, an unfortunate tendency in the non-Orthodox world to describe the dress standards of some in the Orthodox world as “extreme,” all the while ignoring that there is behavior that might be described as “extreme” in the non-Orthodox community.

After all, dress, like many things, can be plotted on a bell-curve. If “nakedness” is at one extreme of the curve, and the total covering of a “burka” is at the other (both extremes being outside any acceptable Jewish range), then the question for all of us is: what point on the bell-curve constitutes prudent Jewish modesty that bespeaks our values?

Those sections of the Orthodox world that can be readily differentiated by their dress clearly have an answer to this question. Those sections of the non-Orthodox world that allow their children to appear on the beach in bathing suits that are little more than string, for the most part have given the matter little, if any, thought. The Orthodox world might well respond to charges of being too “extreme” with the rejoinder that a standard that some describe as “too extreme” is probably better than having no standard at all.

There is more than one possible Jewish dress standard that can conform with the values stated above. Where to “draw the line” on the bell-curve is no easy matter, but drawing the line is important across the Jewish spectrum. What is needed is thoughtful conversation and the intelligent application of Jewish principle in the matter of dress, across all sections of the Jewish community. What is also needed is a determination to resist many of the dress trends of the surrounding culture. When we achieve these goals, not only will the answers vis-à-vis specific items of clothing become clear, but those answers will also be “owned” by the community in a truly enduring fashion.

A few years ago, in an article in the The Times of London newspaper, the author, Michael Gove, made the following statement: “Embryonic stem-cell experimentation involves not just the destruction of human life but the creation of life with the specific intent to destroy it.”

It is important to understand that, from a Jewish perspective, this statement contains two inaccuracies.

First, while stem-cell experimentation could involve the creation of embryos with the express purpose of destroying them, this is not the only means available for obtaining embryos. As is well known, I.V.F. has historically yielded many embryos that will never actually be implanted. These “excess” embryos may either be stored indefinitely, donated, discarded, or used for research. It is plain, though, that these embryos were created with the express purpose that they should become life, not in order that they should be destroyed. Nevertheless, almost none of these “excess” embryos will ever embark upon the path towards birth.

The majority of Jewish authorities agree that such embryos, created in hope, may be used for experimentation in order to provide anticipated cures, rather than allowing them to be dispensed with or to deteriorate.

Second, Michael Gove holds that embryonic experimentation represents the destruction of human life. To be sure, viewed through the lens of Jewish law, even the embryo outside the womb is human life. Gove, however, gives the impression that embryonic human life has equivalent standing to born human life.

Judaism perceives this matter differently. While the embryo’s standing as life makes it undeniably precious, it lacks a vital ingredient that distinguishes its status from ours: potential. Left outside the womb, there is not the slightest hope that it will become anything more than the embryonic life it currently represents. Conversely, you and I are on an unstoppable trajectory of growing and decaying that is a hallmark of later fetal and born human life.

This distinction is critical. If implantation of the embryo is not contemplated, embryonic human life is static. All later human life is dynamic. This lack of potential for development puts embryonic human life in a separate category. It is life without a future, without any possibility of becoming.

In his article, Michael Gove objects to the aspiration to eliminate “all manner of infirmities and imperfections” in the pursuit of “superior models of man.” So does Judaism. But Jewish law does not object to healing illness and to reversing debilitating conditions. If embryonic stem-cell research offers real possibilities for future cures then, from a Jewish point of view, it may be pursued with caution, humility, and strict supervision. This is not the objectification of human life; rather, it is the acknowledgement that those embryos which have already been brought into existence need not simply languish and expire, but might make a contribution to the well-being of humanity.

Thus, there is broad halakhic (Jewish legal) agreement that stem cell research is permitted on “excess” embryos. Most (but not all) authorities would forbid the creation of embryos with the express purpose of killing them in the pursuit of stem cell research.

Question: There is a big problem, noted again recently in the media, in the ultra-Orthodox community of not reporting child abusers and protecting them, rather than the victims. What can we do to stop this, get the criminals arrested, and protect the innocent victims? Does this reflect Jewish values, and is it in line with Jewish moral behavior?

A question like yours, while critically important, demands a reply that is fair to all concerned. Your question asserts that there is a “big problem in the ultra-Orthodox community of not reporting child abusers.” However, the dimensions of the problem are not as critical as the ethics of the issue: even one instance of protecting an abuser would be disturbing. It is not feasible to get accurate statistics from any community about the true extent of something that, by its nature, is hidden. Hence, it is probably not possible to assert assuredly that the problem of abuse is worse in the ultra-Orthodox community than elsewhere. Given, however, that there is a culture in the ultra-Orthodox community that discourages reporting cases to secular authorities, it is likely that there is a higher “failure to report” rate in the ultra-Orthodox community than elsewhere.

Any failure to report known abuse may potentially represent an obstruction of justice and is wholly unacceptable. Since, though, the ultra-Orthodox community has social norms that are unique to that part of the Jewish spectrum, it is important to address how to deal with the problem there specifically. When the problem arises in other parts of the Jewish spectrum, different approaches may be needed.

The other part of your question that adds to the complexity is that it is not clear who constitutes the “we” seeking to know how to stop this behavior. Plainly, the answer will be different if you are asking the question as an “outsider” to the community, or as an “insider.” It will be different if you are asking as a leader of that community, or as a regular member. I am going to assume that you are asking the question as an outsider to the ultra-Orthodox community.

As an outsider to the ultra-Orthodox community, it is important to realize that simply preaching publicly to another community that their community is doing the wrong thing is likely to be counterproductive. Any community that perceives itself to be under attack – even if the substance of the attack is reasonable – is likely to close ranks and be defensive. This might well delay or even prevent the process of justice that you appropriately seek.

On the other hand, child abuse is a heinous transgression of the first order that should never be “swept under the rug,” or only dealt with behind closed doors. The Torah has a commandment which articulates “Hochiach Tochiah et Amitecha,” (Leviticus 19:17) – “You shall surely instruct (rebuke) your colleague’s” misbehavior, with the goal of bringing him back in conformity with the commandments of Judaism. While this “correcting” would normally be private, there is value to speaking out about misbehavior in public so that people are fully aware of the extent of the horror that is associated with this type of transgression.

As regards the ultra-Orthodox community specifically, it is worth remembering that the pronouncements and leadership of the rabbis of the community are probably more critical in terms of molding normative behavior than is true in almost any other part of the Jewish spectrum. Hence, what ultra-Orthodox rabbis say and require can have a very powerful impact in their community. Insofar as the culture in the ultra-Orthodox community is currently reluctant to bring abusers to justice, cultural change is critical. Specifically, this will require rethinking the culture that currently regards the reporting of abuse cases to secular authorities as an act of “mesirah” (informing on a fellow Jew). This type of cultural change, while vital, will likely take time, and will certainly necessitate the active participation of the community’s rabbis.

The fact that it is cultural change that is needed, as opposed to a change in Jewish law, has been demonstrated by the Chabad movement. In 2011, a Chabad rabbinic court declared that the prohibition against mesirah does not apply in cases where there is evidence of abuse: “One is forbidden to remain silent in such situations,” said the ruling. Clearly, it will be important to effect cultural change in order to gain more widespread adoption of rulings of this type.

I would, therefore, propose a two-pronged approach to the problem:

1. Speak out loudly and regularly, with concerted effort, about the horror of child abuse, and the danger, injustice, and illegality of protecting abusers throughout society. Do so without singling out one community or another. Establish powerful and public norms in this regard. The ultra-Orthodox community, while distinct, is not impervious to these types of campaigns – particularly if they are not being singled out. Framed in the right way, love for children (which is obviously at least as great in the ultra-Orthodox world as elsewhere) and the desire to defend them, can be a powerful motivator for bringing perpetrators to justice.

2. Use appropriate private channels to help strengthen the resolve of the community’s rabbinic leadership to confront this issue, and to adopt an approach similar to that of Chabad. The rabbis know that protecting child abusers leads to further dangers, is against Torah teachings, impedes justice, and is apt to reflect badly upon the community. Help them to understand that the secular authorities need not be seen as their adversaries in this area. It will be important to find trusted and skilled partners who might be able to assist them (privately) to find strategies to change the internal culture on this issue so that the community can indeed be a haven for justice.

Neither of these approaches will produce overnight outcomes. But together they represent a way forward that could potentially yield results.

Question: My mother isn't/wasn't Jewish, my father is. I was raised Reform, had a bat mitzvah, [was Jewishly educated, celebrated holidays, identify as Jewish, participated in the Jewish community, did not participate in or celebrate any other faith or religion,] etc. If I have children with a man recognized as fully Jewish, how would they be seen in the eyes of Israel and the American Jewish community (particularly the Conservative movement)? How stable are Israel's laws around this -- could they change in 10 years? What about halachah (Jewish law)? I would really appreciate an answer, even if it's not what I want to hear. Thank you!

May you be blessed with wonderful children! How their status will be regarded will vary, depending on whom you ask, and what the context might be.

The Reform and Reconstructionist movements accept that a Jewish father can pass on Jewishness to his children, even if the mother is not Jewish. This is known as “patrilineal descent,” but it is not automatic. Usually, rabbis in these movements will expect to see some type of clear acts of Jewish identification on the part of the child in order to affirm Jewish status. In your case, most Reform and Reconstructionist rabbis would regard you as Jewish. Consequently, for most (but not all) Reform and Reconstructionist rabbis, your children would be regarded as Jewish, whether or not the man you marry is “fully Jewish.” These rabbis would regard your Jewish status as sufficient to transmit Jewishness to your children, regardless of who you marry.

In the Conservative and Orthodox parts of the Jewish spectrum, patrilineal descent has not been accepted. Hence, with heavy hearts, Conservative and Orthodox rabbis would tell you that, despite all your Jewish involvement, you are not Jewish according to Jewish law. Most of these rabbis would make your conversion path to Judaism a relatively straightforward one, but would still require you to convert in order to establish your Jewish status. If you did not convert, and you married a “fully Jewish” man, he would not be capable of passing on Jewishness to your children. Hence, Conservative and Orthodox rabbis – who do not accept patrilineal descent – would regard your children as non-Jews, unless you convert under appropriate auspices. Again, this would be true regardless of whom you marry.

In Israel, matters are a little more complicated. The state of Israel and its governmental bodies would regard you as Jewish. This is because having a Jewish grandparent is still sufficient to be regarded as a Jew for purposes of the Law of Return. You should not assume that getting the various governmental bodies to see it this way would be an easy or hassle-free process. But, if you were persistent enough, the law would allow you to make aliyah (emigrate to Israel) as a Jew, and receive immediate citizenship as a Jew (should you so desire). This would not require conversion on your part, but would require letters from the rabbis who have known you over the years testifying to your Jewishness, and to the Jewish status of your father and paternal grandparents.

That’s the simple part. Where it gets more complicated is that while the state of Israel will regard you as a Jew, in Israel “status matters” are handled by the rabbinate. “Status matters” refers to issues of marriage, divorce, conversion etc.. In the case of people who the state regards as Jews, they refer all “status matters” to the jurisdiction of the rabbinate. And, in Israel, the rabbis who have jurisdictional authority over these matters are universally Orthodox. The Israeli Orthodox rabbinate would not regard you as Jewish, and nor would they regard your children as Jewish – again, without regard to who your husband might be. So you and your children (along with a substantial number of others) would be in the anomalous situation of being regarded as Jewish by the state, but not by the rabbinate.

You ask about the likelihood of change in these matters. It is, of course, very difficult to predict the future. While some individual rabbis who call themselves “Conservative” in the US might come to accept patrilineal descent, it seems unlikely that the movement as a whole will. As a result, it does not seem plausible that there will be any movement towards halakhic changes on this issue in either the Conservative or Orthodox worlds.

In Israel, any change that might come about would be more likely to be in the direction of greater stringency – i.e. tightening the Law of Return to stop the state accepting the Jewishness of those whose mothers are not Jewish – rather than greater leniency. It is important to stress, though, that there are no such moves currently on the horizon, and the preservation of the status quo seems the most likely future path.

THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN ANSWERS PROVIDED HEREIN ARE THOSE OF THE INDIVIDUAL JVO PANEL MEMBERS, AND DO NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT OR REPRESENT THE VIEWS OF THE ORTHODOX, CONSERVATIVE OR REFORM MOVEMENTS, RESPECTIVELY.